


At one with nature...

by millygal



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 17:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10644279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: Gene's been thinking...never a good idea.





	

Camping...Camping? Whatever the Guv'd been smoking when he'd come up with this little brain teaser, Sam wants the name of his supplier, 'cos damn!

Ok, team building...check, he's down with that concept. He's seen better ways to up the morale of a squad but hell, it's a first for Gene so Sam's not gonna button hole this one, but...camping?

Gene blatantly knew that Annie and half the squad would refuse. Annie on account of the fact that, despite her profession in the early seventies, she's still a girl. Being one with nature equals being one with slime, grime and bugs of varying shapes and sizes. Annie was always gonna decline _that_ not so polite invitation.

Although, Sam has to give her full marks for showing 'bollocks of steel' when faced with a raging DCI. She'd just smiled sweetly, shook her head and walked away. Good girl, brave girl, possibly extremely stupid girl.

The rest of the nameless, faceless ones in amongst his team had all refused, stating family gatherings and prior engagements as excuses. Gene'd decided to ignore the fact that there were more weddings taking place on the two set days that he'd picked, than the rest of the year combined. Sam'd completely refused to prod the issue, what with him wanting to keep his kneecaps.

So that left, yep, you guessed it..Ray, Chris, Sam and the Guv all piling into Gene's beat up old Cortina and heading towards the nearest piece of woodland they could find.

Sam's not even sure where they are. He'd been too intent on pondering Gene's latest lapse in sanity to really pay much attention on the drive down. Probably not a great idea. He'll no doubt end up stranded by the gits he calls colleagues but for now, he'll have to take it on trust that they know where they are.

It's been one thing after another, one long line of disasters sent to test and try. First, they'd almost run out of petrol before actually leaving the City. He and Chris'd had to push the Cortina to the nearest petrol station, what with Ray and Gene resolutely refusing to get out and help. Gene's excuse was kind of valid, his car, he doesn't have to pony up the brawn but Ray, lazy git, he could've at least got out and helped.

Then Sam'd had to pay for the petrol. Gene never carried any cash, he either just assumed that his DI would pay for everything or he thought he was the Queen and money was beneath him. Whatever the reason, Sam'd ended up with a sizeable chunk of his wages missing.

They'd managed to get themselves lost. No, scratch that, Gene'd got them lost. Sam distinctly remembers him saying "Stop fussin' Gladys, I know me way around, Indian tracker blood, that's what it is". That meant he'd refused to even open a map, siting his fabulous navigational skills as the reason he'd never before and wouldn't ever use one. Stubborn sod.

When they'd eventually rolled up on the camp site, they'd all piled out and started in on the tents with gusto. Not that you could really call something so shabby a site. One bog, no showers and an outside tap for washing/cooking/kettle boiling needs

Right now, Sam can see Ray and Chris, wrapped in the remains of what used to be a two man tent. reminiscent of Chris's run in with a goal net, he's all twisted inside it and it's beginning to resemble a very large, very hideous pack-a-mac.

In fairness, Ray's not really to blame for this little mishap. He's done national service, as has Gene. No, it's Chris, city boy through and through, wouldn't know the right end of an axe if it jumped up and smacked him in the nose.

Sam feels a slight twinge of guilt at standing by and watching Ray practically pulling his hair out in frustration, but hey, it'll pay him back for all the snide comments and sly remarks he's been throwing in Sam's direction for the past year and a half. Ain't karma a bitch?

He himself is no master woodsman but at least he knows which end of the peg to smack in the ground. His and Gene's tent is up and looking remarkably tent-like, where as Chris and Ray's is still adorning the divvy DC and Ray looks about ready to throttle the poor sod.

There was never really any question as to who was sharing with who. They'd have drawn straws except Gene'd stated firmly that he was 'Not sharin' with either of those piss ants, they snore and fidget and I'd be forced to break one of 'em'. So Sam's been lumbered with Gene and Chris's got himself a burly DS to contend with.

Not that either of them is complaining. It's an unwritten rule, Ray's Chris's and Gene's Sam's. It's always been that way and that's how it'll remain for the foreseeable future. Plus, none of them are gonna pass up a chance for a little alone time with their significant others. That's right, Chris and Ray've been doing it like hormonal teenagers for years. Sam and Gene have just recently discovered the wonders of same sex relations and lubricant but still, they seem to have taken to it like ducks to water.

Sam thinks it's probably a good thing that no one else was stupid enough to agree to this little trip. How exactly would they have explained the shaking of tent flaps...when the canvas is a rockin' don't come a knockin'?

Sam finds himself highly amused by Ray's appalled attempts to get Chris untangled and goes to help, only flinching the once when Ray threatens him with a foot up the arse if he so much as breathes a word of this to anyone.

Gene looks on, watches as his men try and get Chris the great div extricated and finds himself quite, quite happy.

*

*

*

"Right men, firewood"

Chris gives Gene a confused look and repeats "Firewood?"

Gene rolls his eyes and slaps him up the side of the head "Yes you twat, firewood. How else we gonna cook and boil the kettle?"

Sam chuckles to himself and shifts his arse into a more comfortable position on the log "I didn't realize you drank anything without a percentage and health warning on it, Guv"

Ray snuffles into his beer and attempts to avoid Gene's reproachful eyes.

"You're cruisin' for a bruisin' Tyler"

"Promises, promises. So, who's going to fetch this 'firewood'?"

Ray pipes up for the first time, beady little eyes full of mirth "I vote for DI Tyler, he seems to be good at rootin' around in the shit"

"Funny, anyone ever tell you exactly how funny you are, Carling?"

"All the time"

"Figures, Chris must have the patience of a saint"

"Nah, it's my legendary prowess as a lover that's got him hooked"

Ray turns to Chris, dares him with his eyes to deny it in front of the other two. When Chris simply smiles sweetly and goes back to his beer, Ray huffs and turns round, sulking.

Gene laughs out loud then remembers how this conversation'd actually started "Oi, wood's not gonna gather itself ya morons. Come on, up"

"Who, us?"

"Yes, you two. Go on, shift"

Chris eyes the darkening woods, gives Sam a wary look then hauls himself to his feet. Sam stands, takes Chris's hand and smiles sarcastically "Don't worry little boy, I'll protect you from the big bag monsters"

Chris shakes his hand off angrily and strides away towards the trees, ignoring the hoots of laughter following him.

Sam giggles then follows on, jogging slightly to catch up with his sulking DC.

Neither men see the calculating look pass between Ray and Gene.

*

*

*

Well, they've managed to make it back without too much fuss. Gene's built a fairly impressive fire and they're all enjoying some charcoal covered sausages whilst swapping camp fire stories.

Gene's just got through telling everyone about the time he and his dad went fishing, caught a boot, with a foot still inside. Chris looks absolutely horrified and Ray can't help it. "BOO!"

"ARGH!" Chris screams and falls backwards off his log, sending the other three into fits of giggles.

He rights himself, flips them all off in turn then deposits himself back on the log, back turned to Ray. "Aww, come on Chris, don't pout. T'aint becomin' for a guy your age"

Gene's sat on a tree stump, Sam's body propped between his legs, head resting on one knobbly knee. Whenever he's not gesticulating wildly with his hands, Gene drapes his arms round Sam's shoulders. It's a sickly thought but Ray thinks they actually look kind of sweet. Disturbing. Very disturbing.

Eventually Chris relents and stops acting like a spoilt brat, slips from the log he's perched on and scooches along until he's leant between Ray's legs, mimicking Gene and Sam's positions. They're all a bunch of pooftery girls, complete fairies, but Ray thinks this camping lark ain't half bad. Not if he gets to spend a bit of time with his mates and his bloke without prying eyes watching for signs of anything fishy going on.

*

*

*

It comes time for bed and they're all completely sloshed. Chris is jabbering shite as usual and Ray can't help the warmth spreading through his body, the smile gracing his lips. His boy may be a plank, but he's Ray's plank. That's enough for him.

Sam's completely wasted. He can't seem to figure out which way is up and he's beginning to wonder when the trees started growing the wrong way. Gene leans down, grabs him by the collar and hauls him to his feet. Chuckling lightly, he shoves him towards their tent "Come on Gladys, bed time"

"Oww, Genie wants me nakeddd"

"No, I want you lead down before you fall down, you prat"

"Aww, you mean you don't want Sammy naked?"

"I didn't say that, now, shake a tail feather"

Sam waggles his backside, almost toppling off his feet again, then heads unsteadily for the tent.

Ray laughs and pushes Chris towards their own sleeping quarters. Chris stumbles, grabs hold of a nearby branch then continues intrepidly onwards.

Gene and Ray both hang back, smirk at each other and wait.....

"FUCK!"

"ARGH"

Sam and Chris both come barreling out of the tents, shaking and hopping around. Sam's scrubbing his hands disgustedly down his shirt and Chris looks like he might actually cry "You bastards!"

Gene and Ray fall about laughing. Clutching their sides, heaving for breath, they watch as Sam and Chris both shudder and continue dancing round like mad men.

"No bloody wonder you wanted us to go and get the firewood. Which one of you complete cocks put those filthy things in the sleeping bags!"

Gene can't hide his amusement and Sam rounds on him, poking him in the chest, shoving him backwards "That's not funny Gene, you know how many different types of bacteria there are crawling about in dead flesh!?!"

Ray's got his fist wedged in his mouth and he's biting his knuckles to stop from exploding in another fit of giggles.

Chris turns, still shivering, and punches Ray in the shoulder. "You can shut up an' all you bloody sod. Bet you 'ad somethin' to do with this"

Gene ducks inside his tent and comes out holding what used to be a badger, waves it around and asks "You two never heard of road kill barbecue?"

Ray follows suit, goes inside the tent and comes out brandishing what Chris thinks was once a rabbit by it's stiff back legs, and laughs "Not a fan of the outdoors then, huh"

"Bastards!"

"Complete bastards!"

*

*

*

Finally, after Sam's nagged Gene long enough to make his ears turn purple, they've retrieved the spare sleeping bags from the car and are all tucked away in their respective tents.

Sam's wrapped in 13 stone of Mancunian hard man and is quite content to 'rough it' if this is the result. His back's pressed so close to Gene's front that he's not sure where one ends and the other begins and it goes at least a little way to making up for the truly horrendous practical joke Gene'd pulled.

He forgets they're surrounded by miles of nothing as Gene begins to lick his way down Sam's neck. 

*

*

*

Ray and Chris are huddled together in the one sleeping bag, both too pissed to function let alone shag. Ray's desperately trying to get some kip, sleep off the alcohol still sloshing round in his stomach but Chris is a fidgety fucker.

Every ten minutes he shifts, jabs Ray in the ribs with a bony elbow then settles again. Ray's contemplating smacking him when they hear a screech from outside and Chris jumps ten foot in the air, slamming the pad of his thumb into Ray's eye "For fuck sake!"

"Ray?"

"S'just a bloody owl Chris, go to sleep"

Chris burrows deeper beneath the covers and scoots closer to Ray. Another noise makes him jump, again, smacking Ray in the chin with the top of his head.

"Rayyy?"

"S'just a fox or somethin', stop bloody jumpin'. Go to sleep"

Chris settles, wraps his arms round Ray's middle and tries to think sleepy thoughts. He hears something heavy breathing, grunting and groaning and he shoots forwards, kicking Ray in the balls with his knee. Ray grunts, curls in on himself and whimpers.

"Rayyyyyy!"

"S'just the Guv givin' Tyler one, go to bloody SLEEP"

*

*

*

Sam's finding it hard to maneuver in such a tight space. He's got one foot hooked in the sleeping bag, making it impossible to spread his legs far enough for Gene to slide between them.

Gene's got one arm scrunched above his head, twisted at an odd angle, and his shoulder feels like it's gonna pop out the socket but he gamely continues running his tongue the length of Sam's throat. Eventually he has to move his arm to stop the blood completely draining out of it. When he shifts slightly, he manages to catch Sam in the nose with his elbow.

Sam grunts, swears and scooches sideways. He still can't get his foot out of the sleeping bag but he's got the other one hooked round Gene's waist and can feel the other man's erection pressing against his own. There's not enough friction so he wiggles himself backwards and head butts Gene in the jaw, causing him to bring his head up, knocking into the central pole holding the tent upright.

It collapses, they both swear and from somewhere off in the distance, they hear someone sounding a lot like Chris, screech like a complete girl.

Ten minutes pass, they give up all hope of any kind of 'fun' and decide that camping probably wasn't the best idea. Ignoring the canvas now smothering them, Sam lays his head on Gene's chest and lets the sound of Ray's vivid curses lull him to sleep.

*

*

*

On the drive home, everyone's silent, too tired to actually open their mouths. Eventually Gene breaks the quiet "Next time I come up with some kind of 'brilliant idea', someone give me a smack"

Three extremely exhausted voices all shout " **Yes Guv!** "

 

 

Fin

 

  



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